


These Bones

by quillquiver



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dominating!Cas, M/M, Smut, possessive!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 19:25:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quillquiver/pseuds/quillquiver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are 206 bones in the human body, and Castiel can name them all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Bones

**Author's Note:**

> Heavily inspired by [coffeebuddha](http://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeebuddha/pseuds/coffeebuddha)’s fic: [Words of my Mouth](http://archiveofourown.org/works/208147). If you haven’t already read it, go do that… This fic barely measures up to its incredible hotness and magnificence!

There are 206 bones in the human body, and Castiel could name each and every one of them. He knew the chemical composition of each structure by heart, and that only the perfect ratio of collagen, bone mineral and water made a truly sound and strong foundation. Castiel understood that every bone had evolved for a specific purpose, seamlessly fitting as a piece of a grander, cohesive whole. As telling and unique as a fingerprint, the human skeleton was not nearly as impersonal as it seemed.

Dean’s was particularly beautiful. Castiel remembered carefully shaping his patella and carving the different ridges that would line his skull. The angel spent an age knitting together the broken bits of Dean’s spinal cord; small pieces practically turned to dust from abuse. He was the Sistine Chapel, the Starry Starry Night, the Water Lily Pond of the human race.

And Castiel— Castiel, who crafted his eyes and nose and perfect mouth, who had painted a flush across his chest and cheeks— would take greedy pleasure in claiming him, in unraveling his human charge nerve by nerve. For he, the craftsman, the _artist_ who conceived such beauty, would now truly admire his work; touching and tasting and feeling the contours of the vessel he had fashioned with such painstaking detail and devotion. Dean Winchester would remember to whom he rightfully belonged.

Castiel swept his fingers through Dean’s hair, reveling in the softness of the keratin strands despite their short length. _Cranium_. His thumb brushed along the delicate cartilage of Dean’s ear, amazed by its complex shape, before tracing down his jaw. _Ramus, mandible_. Strong, with only the slightest stubble. Cas could pick Dean out from a line of 900 billion bones.

Slowly, the angel leaned forward, pressing his lips to the other man's in a soft, sweet gesture. Dean readily reciprocated, hands tugging Cas closer until he fell into Dean's lap. Their kisses turned wet despite their languid pace, mouths working against one another’s in a soft, steady rhythm as Castiel pressed his palms to Dean’s shoulders. _Scapula_. They made the Farnese Atlas look like child’s play.

_There are 33 vertebrae._

Castiel swept his hand over Dean’s spinal column, fingers tickling the soft flesh as they travelled downwards and downwards; _cervical, thoracic, lumbar, sacral, coccygeal…_ The hunter moaned when the angel reached the end, fingertips dangerously close to his entrance. "Cas," Dean panted against chapped lips. 

Castiel ignored him, instead pressing his finger to the edge of the sensitive area, pupils blowing wide as Dean pulled away, moaning loudly. " _Cas_." 

 _Humerus, ulna, radius_. With a distressed and disappointed groan, a frustrated Dean felt the angel’s hands leave his posterior, instead travelling down his arms. He felt long, graceful fingers thread through his own, insistently pushing against his palms as Castiel pressed them into the mattress with a sigh. They slotted against each other, moaning and groaning as Cas broke their kiss, hands moving again before the angel pressed his lips to Dean’s right wrist, then palm, then nipped playfully at his fingers. _Carpals, metacarpals, phalanges._

Castiel watched his green-eyed mortal flush at the action, this entire ordeal much more intimate than anything else either party had ever experienced. This was not clumsy, or rough, or rushed: every movement here was deliberate. If Dean didn’t know any better, (and he did know better,) the hunter would have thought his angel was learning him: becoming an expert in everything _Dean_.

But Castiel did not need to learn anything about Dean Winchester. He already knew him completely: inside and out, wholly and by heart. Out of every beautiful human that ever existed and ever could, Cas would always know Dean the best. This mortal was his favourite above all others: he was as complex as dark matter and as simple as a single protozoa… But ultimately, he was a work of art.

"The human body is nothing short of a masterpiece," Castiel breathed into the juncture of Dean's neck, nipping lightly at his clavicle. The hunter squeaked his agreement, one hand tangling in Cas' hair while the other gripped at his lower back, fingers splaying out against pale skin. 

Leaning up on his knees, Castiel ran a finger across Dean's sternum, teeth worrying his own bottom lip while Dean gasped softly. "I made sure to shape you perfectly," Cas murmured, voice rough with desire. His fingers branched out, travelling down as many ribs as he could touch. "I spent an eternity on your face; on every individual freckle seared into your skin. You have one hundred and sixty-three."  

Leaning forward, Castiel pressed his lips to the tip of Dean's nose, hands still resting on his ribs. "But this," Cas breathed, moving back as his fingers pressed ever so slightly into bone. "This was my favourite part; crafting the armor under which your heart would rest." If Castiel closed his eyes, he could feel the distinct ridges of Enochian markings etched into their hard surface. "Did you know that you had been one hamburger away from a heart-attack?" Cas pressed a kiss to Dean’s carotid artery. "Nothing so mundane and mortal as a failure of the heart will take you away from me," Castiel growled, nipping the flesh beneath his lips before laving his tongue over the very same area. "I spent far too much time re-making you; praying, hoping beyond hope, that I would one day have the opportunity to fully and shamelessly admire my work, and that your mortal form could withstand my praise. You are so beautiful, Dean." 

The man in question felt his heart race, green eyes widening as an impatient moan slipped from his lips. Though Dean had never come from words alone, he was beginning to accept it as a real possibility. "Cas," he murmured desperately.

"Yes?" Castiel replied, nose brushing against Dean's as their lips touched for the briefest of moments. Cas' hands slid downwards, fingers brushing Dean’s hips. _Pelvis_.

“Cas, please.”

“Patience is a virtue, Dean.”

The hunter’s eyes rolled back into his head as he groaned, heels of his hands rubbing into their sockets; Castiel was pressing wet kisses down his body. “F-Fuck,” he breathed shakily as his angel suckled at a nipple. “F-fuck virtues. I… I need…” Dean trailed off, brows furrowing as his eyes slipped shut, much too pre-occupied with how Castiel’s tongue dipped to meet his navel.

The angel leaned up a bit then, so close to his skin that the hunter could feel his breath, hot and insistent against his aching sex. But then Cas was gone, palms tracing up his feet; _phalanges, metatarsals, tarsals._ Castiel massaged Dean’s calves, face moving to nuzzle into the hunter’s left thigh. _Tibia, fibula, femur._

Dean was convinced he was going to die. He gasped as the cold tip of Cas’ nose touched his hot flesh, thigh muscles jumping ever so slightly from the change in temperature. Castiel pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the area, working his way up toward Dean’s groin as the man in question tangled his fingers in Cas’ hair, whimpering and hissing and begging. “ _Please,_ Cas.”

Slowly, the angel ran one finger up Dean’s sex, the appendage pressing lightly into the wet tip of its bulbous, engorged head before tracing a straight line downwards. A choked moan passed through Dean’s lips and the hunter tightened his grip on Castiel’s hair, knuckles turning white. “ _Castiel_.”

The angel in question relented. More quickly, Cas licked up a stripe in the opposite direction, ending at Dean’s purple head and suckling at its tip before taking as much of the hunter into his mouth as possible. His fingers stayed at the base of Dean’s cock, thumb brushing repeatedly over his balls as the hunter shivered and whimpered below him, words tumbling from his lips, careless and clumsy.

And then suddenly Cas’ mouth was gone.

Dean made a strangled, choked sound, body too pleasure-saturated to stop Castiel from literally slipping through his fingers. The hunter felt like crying, reduced to a messy pile of feelings and sensations as he shook his head, grabbing the angel’s arm and tugging. It felt like he was seventeen and had no self-control, like he was in the back of the Impala with Daisy Burnadette, cheeks burning because he came too early. It also felt _nothing_ like that. “No-”

But then Cas was sliding into him, nice and slow and all lubed up and Dean couldn’t think anymore.

The hunter could see his angel’s chest rising and falling rapidly, blue eyes completely lust blown as he looked at his human charge with a sort of protectiveness and devotion even Dean could only begin to fathom. “I re-shaped you from stardust,” Cas said, voice low. “Every sensation you feel is sharp because I made it so; I whittled your nerves into perfect points, ensuring that one day, you’d feel my every touch, every lick, every kiss with impossible clarity. I wove my name into every fiber of your being; every atom you possess has been branded with my signature. You are _mine_ , Dean. And I take a profane pleasure in claiming you in the most unholy of ways.”

And before they’d even truly started, Dean came.

It was the most intense orgasm he’d ever experienced; spikes of pleasure erupting all over his body, almost painful in their acuity. Nonsensical babble tumbled from Dean’s lips as he praised his angel, promising him everything and nothing and calling him ridiculous pet names that would otherwise have never graced his consciousness, never mind pass his lips.

“Yours, always yours, Angel.”

Castiel came shortly after, collapsing on top of his mortal with a groan and a sigh as his lips brushed the lobe of Dean’s ear, lightly nipping at the soft skin. “I have lived for longer than you could possibly fathom,” Cas breathed aggressively, air puffing hot against his hunter’s cartilage. “And even an eternity would not make me tire of this. Of you.”

Dazed, Dean made a happy, almost disbelieving sound in the back of his throat, turning his face to give Cas a bruising kiss in response. It was not physically possible for him to get it up so soon, but the hunter felt the pit of his stomach coil up and explode just the same, the tingles on his body intensifying as another wave of pleasure hit him, the orgasm dry and not as powerful as his previous, but toe-curling all the same. Completely spent, the hunter threw himself over his angel, peppering exhausted, soft kisses to the skin of his chest before promptly falling asleep, sticky and flushed and satisfied.

Castiel swept his fingers through Dean’s hair with a smile, reveling in the softness of the keratin strands despite their short length. _Cranium._

There are 206 bones in the human body, and Castiel could name each and every one of them.


End file.
